


Tear the Sun (To Light up Your Eyes)

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: A Hush Sublime [2]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Background/Minor Threegulls, F/M, Let's just get that out of the way now, Multi, Ridiculous, Rom-comy, Utterly Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: The new year brings with it new relationships and the renewing of old ones.Oh and some embarrassment, and babysitting, and crafty kids and a dog...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part two of Hush Sublime everyone! I'm so excited to share this all with you!
> 
> Title comes from "For What it's Worth" by Placebo (although it's a slight misquote).
> 
> This originally was going to be part of the main sequel to FK, but then I realized that Arla wouldn't wait five or so months to get her ass up to Haven, so now we get this nice little interlude. Takes place about three weeks after the end of FK.

She sat on her mama’s lap, swinging her legs back and forth as she told her about what the other girls had said about apples. How you could use them to find out who your true love would be.

“No more of that nonsense my little deer,” mama took her face in her hands. “True love is not for people like us, who could love creatures such as we? No deer, you will have a lover, for a night, or a week, or a month and then you will leave them. Because you cannot tell them what you are, cannot share your shame. We never can.” Mama’s tone was firm and cold. “Human girls are foolish things, and you are not.”

The bedside radio blares into life, something peppy and soulless that yanks her from the dream. With a groan Arla rolls over and slaps her hand until the music turns off. Then rolls back over to stare at the ceiling.

Dreams of her mother never bode well, like the woman haunts her, bringing her bad luck when she’s regained the taste of hope.

It’s enough that she almost doesn’t get out of bed, tomorrow will be warmer than today will surely be, a better day to start. Always tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Probably just what dear mama wants.

More than enough to get her out of bed, spiting her mother is what she does best after all.

In the cramped motel bathroom she stares at her reflection, the same face she’s had for the past three years. It’s _almost_ the same face she had when she first met James, but finding young women who looked like she had back in college is hard. But ever since he’d vanished she’s tried. So that when he came back he would know her.

She could dye her hair, make it more the golden he would remember and not the ashy color it is now, but dead hair never takes well to dying, and if it falls out it’s not like her hair will regrow. So many things to consider and account for when you wear another woman’s skin.

Sparks of pain flare in her fingers from gripping the sink too tightly. She relaxes her fingers as best she can, it’s almost over.

James may have vanished for twenty seven years, but he called her, reached out. She’d nearly shattered her phone the first time she’d heard the voicemail he’d left her. And ever since she’d listened to it every night, over and over. Until she’d finally made it to Maine, to Haven to find him.

When he’d first vanished she’d been angry, she’d found the letter he’d left for her. Read his explanation of how he’d gone to find his birth mother and that he would be back soon. How he repeated over and over that he loved her, and always would.

She’d thought he’d be gone a week at most, and after her anger had died down she settled in to wait, throwing herself more firmly into wedding plans.

But that week had turned into a month, two months, three. And her anger had returned, but with a different focus.

Despite her mother’s disapproval Arla had studied folklore in college, fairy tales and legends of old. They spoke to her in a strange way, made her feel less out of place. So in a way it’d been easy to relate her trials to them. How James was little Kay, suddenly cold of heart and being held from her by the Snow Queen, who could only be his mother.

She’d wanted to be like Gerda and save him, melt his coldness with her tears and love. But he’d left no word of where he’d gone, and no matter how much she’d threatened or tried to bribe the PI James had used the man refused to tell her.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth, one she’s lived with forever now it feels like. And as time passed she knew she was no Gerda, not so pure of heart or kind as that fairy tale girl. Arla is a monster after all, not, as her mother would say, a foolish mortal girl.

And yet she’s now closer to James than she’s been in decades, and if this Haven is as cold as she would expect any Snow Queen’s palace to be—Arla has always been one for warmer climes—well it _is_ Maine in January, what else should one expect but freezing cold?

Still there is a tiny nugget of her that thinks one look at her, one magical fairy tale kiss, and James will be as she remembers him. And together they’ll leave this place and go back to Colorado, or perhaps some new place. Finally they’ll get married and live happily ever after.

The alarm on the clock goes off again, another soulless song, and with a sigh she goes back and actually turns it off instead of hitting the snooze button. When she goes back into the bathroom she splashes cold water on her face to help focus. She can’t let herself be sidetracked, not now when she’s finally within reach of James again.

She dresses as best she can against the cold, knowing that the wind will still manage to find a way in and chill her to the core. But she won’t let it stop her, she _will_ find James, and they _will_ find their happiness again.

Arla had true love once, and now that there’s the possibility of having it again, the hope of it like apples on her tongue, she’s not going to let it go. No winter, or Snow Queen mother is going to stop her.

-

Jennifer’s apartment might be tiny, might be a bit shabby, but it’s damn well hers. She enjoyed being truly independent again.  How nice it was to come back here and know that she has the whole place to herself. Like right now, stumbling back to it after spending a few hours at Black House trying to write, and failing to curb her coffee intake.

Putting her bag on the coffee table she falls onto the couch, groaning into one of her cushions for a few seconds before turning her head, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

Blogging, blogging is _hard_. And not at all what she expected. She’d only started it a week ago and already she feels like she’s fallen out of the ‘honeymoon’ phase. While she hasn’t started poking around to see what places might accept freelance work, she might soon if her struggle keeps up.

She stares at her mess of a front room: books, movies, CDs and records, even video games scattered around the edges like a strange coffee ring. The sheer number is her own fault, it’s far too easy to order a million things online and get them all in one big package a week or so later. It’s bad enough that James’ started to tease her when he comes over for game night; then again she always beats him, so it works out.

But it’s _her_ mess, and her’s alone, so she doesn’t feel much of an urge to change it. And really only the front room’s in this state, everything else is immaculately clean; she’s sure her mom would be both proud and disappointed—“ _But what if you have guests darling girl?”_

Her stomach growls, reminding her that while she had some snacks at Black House, they did not a meal make. Pushing herself upright she goes into her galley kitchen and pokes around. She finds the ingredients for what her mom called ‘easy bread’ and the last remnants of Christmas leftovers—a tiny chunk of green bean casserole—but not much else.

So then take out or grocery shopping?

Then again she could do both.

Pulling herself upright she fishes her keys and wallet out of her bag. She should probably make a list, but where’s the fun in that?

Grateful that she hadn’t bothered to shed her winter wear before falling onto the couch she gets up and heads out the front door.

-

Dwight looks around the house, as if Lizzie might have magically appeared in the five seconds since he last looked. Then looks back at the puppy still fast asleep in a pile of leftover cookies. “Odd eye and Loki’s tits.” Maybe it’d been a good thing Lizzie had very seriously asked him to put all the cookies with chocolate in them on top of the fridge.

Braving the cookie wasteland he nudges the Lapphund, Erna; even with her coloring she doesn’t look at all like a wolf at the moment. She opens her eyes and gives a doggy smile at him, like she’s so damn clever. With a fond sigh he bends down and picks her up. “You smile now, but you’re gonna have to be the one who deals with Lizzie when she finds out she’s not having cookies after practice.” Erna barks and licks his chin.

Opening the back door he sets her down outside, “go play in the snow.” He tells her. “At least you’re _supposed_ to eat grass.” She blinks her brown eyes at him for a moment before spinning around and starting to race around, bounding over the yard.

Closing the door, and hoping Erna can’t get into any _more_ trouble he starts cleaning up her mess, maybe he’ll be able to run down to the store and pick up some more cookies before Lizzie gets back…

The front door opens, the screen door clanging against its frame, following a few seconds later by the door doing the same. “I’m home!” Lizzie calls out cheerfully. Well there goes that hope. He can hear her in the mudroom shedding her outwear.

Then she runs to him, still in her practice outfit, and he goes down with an exaggerated cry when she tackles him. “You got me little bear,” he mock-groans. “What price do I have to pay for you to release me?”

“Cookies!” Lizzie laughs, sitting on his chest.

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk to your dog,” and she is Lizzie’s dog, a good way to teach her responsibility and care. “About that, because she ate the ones she could reach.”

“Erna!” Lizzie gasps in outrage, looking around for her puppy.

“I put her outside,” he says, wrapping his arms around her before sitting upright. “Now, why don’t you go change and we can walk to the store and get more. We’ll take Erna too, so she can work off all that sugar.” He stands and swings her, her laughter making him smile. “Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah!” She cheers, wiggling until he puts her down. She races upstairs to her bedroom and he goes back to the backyard. He doesn’t see Erna, but he gives the sharp whistle they’ve already managed to train her to respond to. Her head pops out of the snow and she barks. Her whole body soon emerging to bound towards him.

But he blocks her when she tries to get it. “No, shake.” He doesn’t want her tracking snow all over the house, even if they’re just going right back out into it.

Erna does so, thankfully, and as she rushes in Lizzie comes out, snagging the leash and harness. “Kay,” Lizzie grins at him. “We’re ready!” Dwight bites back a smile as they all go back into the mudroom and put on their winter wear.

As they head out Lizzie starts chatting about what she did in ballet, and Dwight listens with half a fond ear. Grateful that so far this year has brought better things than the last.

-

Well, at least Arla knows she’ll blend in. Not that she’d been truly worried about it, but it’s still nice to know. A surprising, to her, number of people seem to be braving the winter weather, and every new face distracts her. Now that she’s _here_ she finds she doesn’t have much of a plan for finding James other than looking.

But the sign as she’d driven in had proclaimed that Haven had nearly 20,000 residents and she’s certain she won’t be able to see them all. Maybe she should go to the police, see if they’d be willing to help. Not yet though, right now she wants to get a feel for the town, see what sort of place could keep James. _Something_ about it had to have charmed him for him to stay. She finds herself hoping it’s not the weather.

She crashes into someone and they both go falling.

“Shit, sorry.” Arla pulls herself upright to see a short woman, tufts of black hair sticking out from a furry ushanka, the rest of her equally bundled up. “Sorry, should have been looking where I was going.” She bounds up and offers Arla a hand. “I’m Jennifer, but you could call me Jenny if you wanted.”

Arla accepts the hand, finding herself smiling. “I’m Arla,” another flicker of surprise passes through her when the woman manages to haul her up easily. “It’s probably my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Part of her curses herself for being so oblivious. “It’s nice to meet you Jenny.” She used to know a Jenny back in high school, but she’d certainly been much less outgoing than this one.

Jenny smiles brightly as she brushes herself off. “Nice to meet you too Arla. Are you new in town? I mean it’s not like I know _everyone_ in town, because wow, that would be sort of impressive. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” She claps a gloved hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I tend to babble when I’m excited.”

Torn between amusement and vague anger Arla shakes her head in bemusement. “Well I am new, so you’re very observant.” Meaning she’s either someone Arla has to watch out for, or befriend and hopefully use that to her advantage; and it _would_ be nice to have help in her search. “I just came in yesterday.”

“I’m a reporter so, you know,” Jenny takes her hand off and sidesteps to let a couple pass. “Being observant is sort of the job. Uh, want me to buy you a coffee? Give you the dime tour? Haven’s a really great place, so I hope you stay for a while.”

“A coffee and tour would be wonderful,” Arla gives her the friendliest smile she can. “And if things work out I might be staying quite a while.”

-

James sits at his desk, bored out of his mind. Taking the stress ball Jennifer had given him as a gag gift he leans back in his chair as tosses it up towards the ceiling.

“Stop that,” Audrey chides, but he knows she’s smiling even if he can’t see it. “You’re gonna make _me_ antsy. And then where will we be?”

With a laugh he shakes his head. “No idea,” he answers.

When he’d agreed to Nathan’s ‘job offer’ he hadn’t expected it would end with him being partnered with his mom. But it makes sense, the chief of police isn’t exactly supposed to go out and solve crimes himself. And working with Audrey the past week has been both wonderful and...interesting. If he’d ever had thoughts that she and Lucy might be the same person, with slightly different dressing, well, he doesn’t anymore.

“Come on,” he hears the slight roll of her chair as she stands. “How about we see if we can lure your dad away from paperwork and get lunch.”

Catching the ball James sets it back down and stands. “I don’t know,” he finds himself joking. “I’m good with impossible things, but I’m pretty sure pulling Nathan away from work is a miracle.” One he knows Audrey is good at, at least.

She laughs as she grabs her coat. “Well if need be we can call in the cavalry. Now come on, I’m starving.”

-

Cookies chosen, during which Lizzie sighs that they won’t be as good as the ones they got for Christmas—she has a point, Duke’s pepper cookies are amazing—they make their way out, after snagging a few other staples.

Outside Erna’s waiting for them patiently, her leash tied around the bike rack. Dwight’s glad that he’d thought to get a dog that was good with cold weather when picking her out, otherwise he’d have a lot more to worry about. “No more cookies,” Lizzie chides Erna as she unties the leash. “Cookies are not dog treats.” While Erna’s smart Dwight doubts she’s _that_ smart, still it’s cute that Lizzie tries.

As they head home they take their time, Lizzie and Erna frolicking around him, Lizzie half-heartedly trying to train Erna; in a week or so he’ll probably sign her up for an actual obedience class, but for now this is alright.

“Dwight!” He looks up and across the street to see Audrey waving at him, James by her side. Dwight waves back. “Good to see you.”

“And you,” he agrees.

“Can I go say hi dad?” Lizzie rocks on her heels, a look better suited for the puppy sitting next to her on her face.

He gives a fond shake of his head. “Go on, but be careful.”

At least she doesn’t give him a heart attack and remembers to look both ways before crossing the street, Erna bounding along side her. The image makes him smile. Just barely he can hear Lizzie’s excited chatter, and is grateful Audrey humors her. James crouches and starts scratching Erna, much to her delight.

Then Lizzie’s rushing back to him. “See you tomorrow at the powwow?” Audrey calls out to him. That’s right tomorrow's their first, well Duke called them ‘shadowy town meetings’ when Nathan had first proposed them but Dwight’s pretty sure that’s not what they really are. But as the leader of the Guard he’ll be required to go, so he can coordinate and share what his people have been doing for the past two weeks.

“I’ll be there,” he agrees. “You’ll babysit right?” He asks James, while Lizzie groans, probably thinking herself old enough now to be on her own for a few hours.

“I’ve got work,” James sounds sad, which doesn’t surprise Dwight, James enjoys being around Lizzie and certainly does care for her. “Jennifer’s free though, you could ask her.” Audrey gives James a light tug, they probably need to be on their own way. He and Lizzie certainly do.

“Alright,” he calls after them. Turning back so he can trail after Lizzie. Already racing ahead; but he trusts her to be careful and at least stay within shouting range.

Ask Jennifer, he knows it shouldn’t be a problem, Jennifer likes hanging around Lizzie just as much as James does. But there’s something about her that, he doesn’t know how to describe it. Off putting in and of itself.

She’s, well...he doesn’t even know what fits her. She’s not wild, or disorganized, or flighty, or any of another thousand words one might use to describe the person she presents herself as. Yet that thing about her sort of... _calls_ to him?

No, not calls, _interests_ him, and not just the normal everyday parts of him. The sleeping power in him, his fury, his strength, his gift from the All-Father, finds something about her curious. Wants to know more.

He’d felt it before with Lizzie’s mother Carmen, but not so strongly. It could be because Carmen had been human, although to be fair Dwight himself is human too, if, just... _enhanced_ ; while Jennifer most certainly is _not_. But he’d like to think it’s more than that.

Yet he’s also wary, because if his fury becomes _too_ interested it might come forward unbidden, might cause him to do something he didn’t want. Jennifer could take more than a human woman could, but a snapped neck, or spine, or any number of injuries he could cause without realizing it would still possibly kill her.

A year ago, hell six _months_ ago, he doesn’t think he would have been as worried, but William’s aether messed with him more than just making him lose control. He doesn’t fear the thing inside him, but he also now knows the full breathed of his madness, knows what someone could draw forth if they had a mind to.

He has nightmares about it, that Audrey and the others didn’t succeed in bringing him back. That he kills people as they try to put him down.

That it’s not him William infects but Lizzie.

When he wakes he’s grateful that the Rangers taught him to dream quietly, your nightmares were no reason to go bothering your squad. It means Lizzie has no idea, it means those thoughts stay between him and the gods.

“Daddy?”

He gives himself a shake at Lizzie’s worried tone. Plastering on the best smile he can he fakes a charge at her, making her scream in delight and race away, Erna right along side her. Even with his arms full of bags he manages to scoop her up. “When we get home why don’t we watch a movie?” It will be a good distraction for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in two weeks!
> 
> (But don't worry there'll still be some series content next week...)
> 
> [This](http://2puppies.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Finnish-Lapphund.jpg) is what Finnish lapphunds look like BTW (or at least ones like Erna look like).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! Have a very no-scary chapter.

There’s something off about Arla, Jennifer thinks to herself as they met for coffee again the next morning.

She doesn’t think it a bad thing, far from it. It’s just there’s a strangeness about her, the way her features seem ill-fitting, dark eyes almost out of place amongst all that paleness. And those eyes see more than they let on too, Jennifer has no doubt.

Everything about her is a puzzle in Jennifer’s mind, and she hopes that she’ll be able to solve it, if Arla lets her. Arla smiles at her as she takes the seat across from her. From here she can still smell the new-store funk from Arla’s outerwear, to Jennifer it speaks of a woman who rarely spends time outdoors, or out in the cold. Making her even more curious as to why she’s here. “So, anything you’re interested in seeing today? The docks aren’t much this time of year, you should’ve come in a few months, spring is when Haven really shines.” Jennifer’s excited for it herself, Founder’s Day is going to be a _blast_.

“Actually,” Arla plays with her coffee cup, her nails tapping out rhythms against the porcelain. “I was hoping you could help me with something. I’m...looking for someone, and the last place he was was here in Haven.” Ooo a mystery, Jennifer adores them.

“Well I’ll do my best,” but she decides against bragging about her connections. Even if they are impressive and would most likely help, she doesn’t want to be the braggart. Or draw herself up as someone important. Even if some people in Haven would say that she _is_ important. She just doesn't want people trying to brown nose her is all. “Who is he?”

Before Arla can answer, the door of Black House opens and the sound of familiar banter reach her ears.

“I still say it’s your fault,” Duke’s cheer makes her roll her eyes. “You’re the one who said, and I quote ‘It’s perfectly harmless, like a guinea pig.’”

“It was twenty years ago,” Nathan groans.

Jennifer finally looks over to see Duke, Nathan, and Audrey. Their cheeks are pink from the cold and they must be heading over to that town hall meeting. Although Jennifer finds herself worried to see Nathan in a wheelchair.

Arla’s looking at them too, but more in a curiosity way. Jennifer decides it worth the risk and calls out. “Mom,” right now she’s not sure she’d be able to get Duke _or_ Nathan’s attention. Not when they get bickering like this.

Audrey looks over and smiles. Leaning in slightly she murmurs something to Nathan and Duke, who start heading her way shortly after. “Morning Jennifer,” Duke smiles, his eyes briefly flicking to Arla. “Who’s your friend?”

“Dad, Nathan, this is Arla, she’s new in town. Arla this is my dad Duke, and his...Nathan.” It’s always weird introducing them. Because saying lover just feels strange in such a normal setting.

“Ha,” Duke grins and gives Nathan’s wheelchair a slight shake. “That’s pretty much it.”

“What are you, twelve?” Nathan snaps back with no heat.

Jennifer shakes her head at the both of them. “I’m sorry,” she says to Arla, who’s looking at the two of them like she doesn’t know what to make of them. “My family’s weird. I probably shouldn’t have introduced you.”

Arla bites back a smile. “I’m used to weird. It’s, ah, good to meet the both of you.” And it says something about Arla that she doesn’t raise an eyebrow at the fact that Duke, who barely looks forty, is Jennifer’s father. If she does stay in Haven, she’ll fit right in on that front at least.

“I apologize for Duke,” Nathan’s tone make Jennifer roll her eyes again. “We usually don’t let him out during the winter, but he insisted.” He holds a hand out. “It’s nice to meet you Arla.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Arla shakes his hand.

“I hope you two are behaving.” Audrey sidles up next to Duke, doling out coffees. “I would rather we not have a repeat of thirty minutes ago, I’m pretty sure there’re responsible adults underneath this bout of weird teenagerdom. I’m Audrey, by the way.” She also sticks her hand out. “Arla right?”

They also shake hands, but it doesn’t escape Jennifer’s notice that Audrey’s expression shifts as they touch. Another sign that Arla isn’t at all what she seems. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“Now if you’ll excuse us we have somewhere to be, and I’ve got to make sure these two don’t decide to try and cause unholy chaos on the sidewalk _again_. Talk to you later Jenny?” Without really waiting for a response, because _of course_ they’ll talk later. Audrey starts ushering the two men away, seemingly immune to their protests that racing the wheelchair down the sidewalk is _not_ unholy chaos.

“They’re...interesting.” Arla’s tone definitely suggests understatement.

Jennifer rolls her eyes again as she turns to face the other woman. “You have no idea, they certainly weren’t what I expected, but they’re my family.” Of that she has no doubt. “So, you’re looking for someone?” Steer this conversation back where it was _supposed_ to be going.

A fond smile crosses Arla’s face. “Yes. My, fiance, or at least that’s what he still is to me.” Curious. “He left me to come here and find his own family.” Something like suspicion begins to creep into Jennifer. “So I came here to find him.”

“What’s his name?” Although Jennifer thinks she knows, a fact that’s making her look at Arla in a new light. She can see why James fell in love with her, she’s waited twenty seven years for him and apparently still loves him as well.

“James Cogan,” Arla answers, and while Jennifer did ask the question she didn’t expect Arla to answer so easily.

Jennifer wonders if she should call or text James, let him know Arla’s in town. Should she try and steer them together? Keep them apart? She gives a mental shake of her head at that last thought. Keep them apart? What sort of ridiculous idea is that? So far she’s enjoyed Arla’s company and she certainly wouldn’t want to ruin what she considers a budding friendship.

So honesty, or at least a shade of it. “I think I know who you’re talking about.” She takes a swig of her coffee. “Can you give me a moment?” She needs a little bit to herself, best decide what to do.

Arla looks like she wants to say no, wants to demand her answers right away—a fact Jennifer can appreciate—but she reins herself in. “Alright,” it’s given grudgingly however and Jennifer’s sure that if she’s not back in a minute or two Arla will come investigating.

Rushing outside Jennifer bumps into someone coming up the stairs—she gives an internal sigh, why does it always happen to her? A someone who reaches out to steady her before she falls at least. “Jennifer,” Dwight’s voice makes her want to duck into her scarf. “Thank gods, I was hoping you could help me.”

Help him? She actually gets a good look at him and sees he looks more than a little frazzled. “Help with what?” She knows he should be at that meeting, the one she’s glad _she_ doesn’t have to go to. But it seems he’s been looking for her; she’s glad it’s cold enough that she can blame her blushing on windchill.

“Can you babysit Lizzie for me?” It leaves him in a rush.

“Daaadd,” comes Lizzie’s familiar childish protest behind him, Jennifer bites back a smile.

And even though she’s got the whole James and Arla thing to try and figure out, which is probably a lot more than she can handle right now by itself, she finds herself saying “sure.”

Which means Lizzie gets shoved into her arms, nearly knocking them both over. “Thanks!” Dwight shouts at her as he rushes off.

“You owe me!” She shouts back. Because what the hell is she going to now with Lizzie _and_ Arla still waiting for her inside?

Jennifer’s certain it can’t get any worse, forgetting this is Haven and of _course_ it can.

Because here comes James, heading right for her and Black House.

-

James braves the cold for coffee, because it’s either that or have one of his co-workers, most likely Stan because that man has the patience of a saint, show him how to appease the communal coffee maker again to at least make a tolerable pot. But unlike Stan James doesn’t have the patience for that right now, so instead he’s getting himself into everyone’s good graces and wondering how he’s going to manage carrying twenty cups of coffee back to the station.

He isn’t at all surprised to see Jennifer there, what is surprising is that she’s pulling herself and Lizzie upright and gaping at him like she’s never seen him before in her life.

“Hi,” it might be cold, but he can deal with it to at least be polite to his sister. “You alright?” Something must be up for her to be acting like she is. While he’s bored, he’d rather they not have another crisis of giant proportions if he’s honest.

“Fine!” Jennifer finally bursts out, and he highly doubts that. She scoops Lizzie up, which makes the girl laugh. “Things are just absolutely fine! We’re leaving now. Good luck.”

Sometimes Jennifer is hard for him to parse, and right now especially so. Good luck? What the hell did she mean by that? He can’t ask of course because she’s beating a hasty retreat and he didn’t realize she could run that fast.

But in the end he decides to shrug it off, everyone’s allowed their weirdness as far as he’s concerned and what does it matter if he doesn’t get it?

Taking the steps he relishes the warmth of Black House. “Well Betty I hope you’re ready for the biggest order you’re getting today.” Good thing he wrote it all down.

On the other side of the counter Betty and Greg laugh, clearly not understanding how serious he’s being.

Not that he can correct them because the scrap and clatter of a chair falling fills the space, it draws _everyone’s_ attention, meaning there’s a perfect bubble of silence. “James?” It seems to take over the room, a woman’s voice shaky and uncertain and his heart clenches as he turns around.

She’s dressed warmly, long blonde hair falling out from under a stocking cap, dark brown eyes that always saw too much. Her body is trembling. And the longer he stares at her the more he forgets about coffee, and work, and everything else. “Arla?”

Like it’s enough for the both of them they rush towards each other, and without thinking he sweeps her up into a spinning hug just like he used to. Her laugh is achingly familiar and when she swoops down to kiss him he can’t help but kiss her back.

And just like that first time skin touched skin between them his power moves through her, telling him what’s wrong with her and fixing what it can. When they break apart the differences are infinitesimal, but noticeable. A faint tightening of the skin on her face, a smoothness in her hair when his hand weaves into it to pull her into another kiss, one that’s just a kiss for him this time.

Her cheeks are flushed. “Oh God James,” her arms wrap tightly around his neck. “I, I thought I’d never see you again.” She buries her face in his neck and she can feel her breathing him in. Only a moment later though she’s pulling away, her hand smacking him hard on the chest. “Don’t fucking do that again asshole. You were supposed to be gone a _week_ not twenty seven fucking years!”

Part of him wants to laugh, revel in Arla being Arla; but it’s not quite the right moment for that. She at least lets him pull her tight against him, his own head falling down to rest on her shoulder. “I know, I know. I...never meant for that to happen, I hope you can forgive me someday. I just, you came, I…” Words fail him, he never expected her to come to Haven. He’d thought she might call him back, or ignore him completely. Not this.

“I’m sure I will forgive you someday,” he’d forgotten what her smiles were like, sharp and vibrant. “But James, why?”

Which is about when he’s reminded that they’re in the middle of Black House, because people actually start to cheer and applaud when Arla says she’ll forgive him someday. His ears start to burn under his own hat. Oh God, this is going to spread through the town like wildfire and he’s probably never _ever_ going to escape it for the rest of his life, however long it might be. He groans, now would be an excellent time to have a power that turned him invisible or something.

“Can we talk somewhere else?” Bad enough that in five minutes the whole town will know—and shit, what’re his parents going to do when they find out?—but he doesn’t need everyone to know what happened to him.

He pulls away to see her blushing too, a function he knows she can only do thanks to his powers healing her. “Yeah.”

James should probably call the station, let them know he’s not coming back; but he won’t, they’ll probably find out why soon enough and at least won’t think he’s been kidnapped or something. He and Arla hurry from Black House and at least the other customers have the decency not to heckle them.

-

Lizzie sits patiently on the coffee table in Jennifer’s apartment while Jennifer does her hair. It’s been decades since the last time she’s babysat someone and she’s fairly certain her last experience wasn’t anything like this.

At least her hands haven’t lost the memory of braiding hair, even if most of the braids she knows aren’t all that elaborate. Still it’s surprisingly soothing to do it, half her attention on her hands, the other half on the movie Lizzie picked out for them to watch—there had been a bit of an ‘oh I know him’ shock when David Bowie first appeared, but more from the fact that she hasn’t really bothered to ‘catch up’ with artists she remembers hearing on the radio before she was put in the Barn. “Almost done,” her fingers weave deftly, the four strands interlocking more quickly now that she’s at the ends.

“There,” she slides the scrunchie off her wrist and onto Lizzie’s hair. “Now you’re ready to have a fantastic adventure of your choice.” It sort of leaves her without her meaning to say it, but it’s also true. Lizzie is definitely the sort of girl who will go on to have what her old friends liked to call ‘ _a_ life’.

Jumping up Lizzie bounds to the bathroom, Jennifer smiles. “You can choose the next movie,” Lizzie calls magnanimously from the bathroom. A huff leaves Jennifer but she means it fondly. She’s fairly certain she’d rather have this than try to field whatever might be going on with James and Arla—although she does feel like a bit of a heel leaving him, maybe she’ll bring him some cookies or something later.

Sifting through her piles she tries to figure out what Lizzie might enjoy. Finally she settles on _Fantasia_ , she remembers it blowing her mind when she was Lizzie’s age, and how much she’d enjoyed seeing it again later as an adult—even if they had changed things.

With Lizzie taking her sweet time, Jennifer’s not sure if she’s trying to make her feel better over an okay job, or if she’s doing other things in the bathroom, she also hurries to her bedroom to make good on the exchange they’d agreed on when Jennifer had asked to braid Lizzie’s hair.

She just hopes Dwight’s okay with her teaching Lizzie to all but break the law; then again the law does seem a bit more flexible here in Haven, and really, lockpicking is such a useful skill.

“Thanks miss Jenny,” Lizzie says as she comes back, picking her way through the piles of things in the front room; maybe Jennifer really should clean, if Lizzie’s having to pick her way so she doesn’t trip over something then what hope does Jennifer at 3 AM when she’s already half asleep have? Well maybe she can do it when Dwight comes to pick Lizzie up.

...Or maybe she could turn it into a game for her and Lizzie to play, so that he doesn’t think she's a slob.

“Call me Jenny. Miss Jenny makes me feel weird,” it does. She enjoys kids, but when they say things like that it makes her feel like some ancient school teacher, and while there’s nothing wrong with teachers Jennifer’s never really considered herself the right sort for the job.

And yet here she is, about to teach Lizzie the basics of lockpicking. But really, that’s not quite the same thing at all.

Lizzie plops onto the couch next to her and Jennifer hits the play button as she spreads out her tools on the coffee table. “Alright, so pay attention here, these are your lockpicks…”

-

By the end of the movie Lizzie’s comfortably sprawled on top of Jenny, popcorn bowl within easy reaching distance for the both of them. Although at the moment Lizzie feels like she might fall asleep. It’s not that the movie is _boring_ , just she does start to find herself funned out. She yawns, an action that makes Jenny grin. “Getting tired?”

Lizzie blinks rapidly trying to focus on the elephants doing ballet. “No,” she protests.

A knock on the door distracts the both of them and Lizzie rolls off Jenny so she can answer the door. From her vantage point Lizzie can’t see the door, but it doesn’t mean she can’t hear. “Dwight,” Jenny’s voice picks up slightly. “Good to see you.”

Lizzie manages to get off the couch. “Daddy!” Even though it’s been only a few hours it feels good to hug her dad again.

“Hey little bear,” his hand across her back squeezes her tightly. “Hope you behaved yourself.”

“She was excellent, we watched some movies, pigged out on popcorn. Taught each other new things.” Jenny smiles down at her, winking. Lizzie finds herself biting back a laugh. Maybe if she asks dad Jenny can always be her babysitter, at least with her it’s _fun_ , and Jenny can do a lot cooler things than most people.

Looking up at her dad she sees him staring at Jenny and raising an eyebrow. “Did she now?” Jenny does that not meeting dad’s eyes eyes thing, and Lizzie can see a blush on her cheeks.

“It was fun!” Lizzie chimes in, the gears in her mind starting to work at this, seeing new possibilities. “I learned a lot.” She doubts her dad will buy her a lock picking set, but she never knows. Maybe if she asks nicely, or maybe Jenny will buy one for her. “Can I come over again tomorrow dad?” She could bring Erna, that would be fun.

Her dad looks down at her. “You’ve got school tomorrow little bear.”

Lizzie groans, burying her face in her dad’s side. “School’s the worst.” She has some friends, but a lot of the kids act funny around her. They all know she’s a berserker, but they act like she could go off and attack them all at any second; even though she’s no where near having her first fury. And her teachers don’t like that she asks too many questions, which is super the worst.

He pats her back.

”Thanks again for doing this on such short notice, I owe you,” he looks back up and Jenny and smiles. “We really should be going though.”

Deciding she might as well go for it she tugs on his arm. “Daad, we should take her out to dinner. To thank her.”  Lizzie will take it as a win how surprised both adults look.

“Oh you don’t need to do that,” Jenny begins babbling. “I mean it’s totally thoughtful of you, but I’ve got my own food and if Lizzie’s got school in the morning I wouldn’t want to keep you up.” Before she can get much further Lizzie sees her dad shake his head and put his fingers on Jenny’s lips to quiet her. Which is when Lizzie looks away because while she likes Jenny and thinks it might be fun to have her around more often she doesn’t need to see her and Lizzie’s dad get all...schmoopy.

“Lizzie’s right, let us take you out to dinner, it’s the least I can do.” Lizzie finds the texture on the wall _infinitely_ fascinating.

There’s a brief second of silence before Jenny answers. “Alright, let me grab my stuff and we can go.”

 _Score_. Lizzie thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love this chapter, from the Lizzie POV, to the mental image of Nathan prodding Duke to race them down the icy sidewalk in his wheelchair (he would to, you know he would)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end of this lovely little jaunt! I hope you've all enjoyed reading as I did writing it.

Arla lays in her hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind still trying to process what James had told her yesterday.

He’d _died_ , and then been brought back to life by his grandmother and a spell that used to be in place over Haven. He’d been trapped in that spell for _twenty seven years_ , with only his half-sister for company, and not even that considering she’d apparently been sleeping since the 70s. Finding out who his father was. How his mother was technically dead, although her body still lived on, just with a different personality thanks to that selfsame spell—she’d nearly laughed when he’d told her that, that his mother was almost a skinwalker in reverse. He and his sister had only gotten out a few months ago. On and on, a story that seemed all but impossible; yet she believed it, because James had never lied to her before, and why would he start now?

And she’d also come to learn from her own experience that the more unlikely something sounded the more it was probably true.

Which didn’t stop it from being almost too much to take in. There might have been twenty seven years of nothing really happening but the months before that time and the month after it had more than enough events to make up for it.

Reaching under her shirt she pulls out the one bit of jewelry she wears, staring at the ring on it’s fine gold chain. Her engagement ring. The smoky topaz— _“I wanted it to match your eyes, but this is the closest I could find”_ —glints in the light. Reminding her of before, of the promises they’d made to each other.

Part of her wants to just throw herself at him, forget the past twenty seven years and just continue on like nothing happened. Which for him it hasn’t. But for her, well, much might not have changed, but over twenty seven years that ‘not much’ tended to build up.

 _“I don’t expect you to come back to me out of any sense of obligation Arla,"_ it had hurt in a way to hear James say those words, even if he needed to say them, because it made her question her own feelings; but in the wake of all that’s happened she _should_ do that. Did she still really love him? Or did she only think she loved him because she’d clung to finding him for so long?

She hates it, but it’s something she needs to think about.

Lifting her head up slightly she take off her necklace and slides the ring onto her finger. It still fits perfectly, even if her hands aren’t the same ones it was made for. Once it hadn’t fit and she’d been torn between getting it resized or leaving it as is and just trying to choose better the next time she had to change skins.

Sighing she lowers her hand, the weight of the ring both familiar and alien.

For so long her goal had been to find James, that and only that. But now that she’s found him, well she’s lost, with no helpful breadcrumb trail to lead her out.

 _“If you’re unsure at least stay for a few days? It’ll be like dating all over again. You even get to meet my folks for a second time.”_ He’d laughed at his own words and she hadn’t been able to help herself with smiling back.

She’ll stay, let herself try this out all over again.  Hoping and praying that her new edges don’t scare him away. That her long held dreams don’t turn to so much ash in her mouth.

Arla still believes in true love and finds that she’s willing to fight for it.

-

Dwight finds that he’s still vaguely pole-axed by last night, a dinner that could almost be considered a _date_. Odd-eye but Lizzie’s trickier than he remembers; it has him contemplating a berserker sworn to Loki and it makes his brain hurt a little, even though he’d accept it if that ended up being Lizzie’s choice because she’s his daughter and he loves her.

At least work’s all but ground to a halt with William gone and Haven bundled up for winter; so he can let his mind wander to its heart’s content and not worry about his distraction getting the better of him. Well, that still might happen, but at least at the moment no one will get hurt because of it.

"I’m not sure I want to know what brought on that expression,” McHugh says as he takes the seat on the other side of Dwight’s desk.

Dwight snorts, McHugh fails miserably at being coy every time and yet he tries. “I had a kind of date last night.”

It earns him an arched eyebrow. “A ‘kind of’ date? I didn’t know those things existed. Is this like how I’m ‘kind of’ responsible for the whole drunk guinea pig thing?”

Another snort, although this time it’s almost a laugh. “Pretty sure it’s not really a date when you’re daughter’s there, and when it’s her idea in the first place.” To be fair Dwight’s not sure he’d ever actually have asked Jennifer out on a date, even with his budding interest in her. It’s just that it’s so unexpected that he’s not sure how to deal with it; he hasn’t dated anyone in almost fifteen years, he’s a bit rusty. “And it wasn’t a guinea pig.”

“Okay, now I’ve changed my mind, you’re _really_ got to tell me now.” McHugh, for all his insistence that he wanted to live ‘drama free’, sure enjoyed hearing about it from others.

Not exactly having the self control to hold back his sigh—okay, so that’s complete and utter bullshit—Dwight leans back in his chair. “I really don’t, and if I really do I think I want to at least pretend I’m drunk first.” All the alcohol in Haven probably isn’t enough to get him for real drunk.

“Great, Tor wanted to try out his new mead anyways.”

Dwight groans. “Odd-eye you’re going to gang up on me aren’t you?” He’s not sure if he trusts his best friend and distant cousin _not_ to gang up on him. On the other hand maybe he needs it—on the other, other hand he’s not sure he wants to know what he might have done to deserve Freya spinning him that fate.

“You bet your ass we are,” McHugh reaches over the desk and slaps Dwight on the shoulder, he goes into it, not because it hurts—because it barely feels like a love tap—but because he’s humoring his friend. “Definitely tonight, not letting you worm your way out of it if we can. Tor’s place, it’ll be fun.”

“Why don’t we ever do this at your place?” Dwight responds with a bemused shake of his head.

“My tiny apartment cannot contain all our burly manliness obviously, and before you ask, your house it too cozy. That’s why.” McHugh stands, and Dwight follows suit, the two of them hugging. “Seven o’clock, and if you’re not there Tor and I will drag you there ourselves,” McHugh calls over his shoulder as he leaves.

“I’d like to see you try,” Dwight calls back before falling back into his chair. After a few silent seconds he presses his intercom. “Kat, tell me I’ve got a meeting or something soon.” He needs the distraction.

“Sorry Dwight,” his assistant/second-in-command answers. “You’ve got an empty day. I’ll let you know if something comes up though. Do you want me to call a babysitter for Lizzie tonight?”

“No,” Dwight responds with a shake of his head, “I’ll handle it.” Looked like Lizzie would be getting her wish to see Jennifer again today after all.

-

Jennifer has to wonder if this is becoming A Thing. Granted as far as things go this one isn’t too bad, and gives her a convenient excuse to dodge James—on that front she wants to find out how the wind is blowing before she sees him again.

Although it seems as if the number of kids has multiplied.

Lizzie, and a boy who’d shyly introduced himself as Liam, are studiously working on their homework on the floor while Jenny does to do her own work, or at least tries, Erna’s making it a little difficult with her constant entreaties for petting. But she _is_ super adorable so Jenny’s letting it slide for now.

While she pets Erna she lets her eyes wander, passive snooping at it’s best. So far what she’s seen of the two story house is pleasantly cozy, and the front room is no different. Photos, mostly of Lizzie or Lizzie and Dwight, cover the cream walls, and the leather furniture is still nice and squishy. The only two things that really stand out are the huge ass TV, Jenny doesn’t think she’s ever seen one so big, and the bear skull above it—Lizzie had told her matter of factly when she’d asked that it was one Dwight had hunted himself.

They’re unexpected little insights that pique Jenny’s interest, more than it already was piqued that is.

“I’m done,” Liam announces solemnly, a fact that makes Jenny fight not to smile. He sits up, and as if waiting for that cue Erna bounds to him, rolling onto her back and tongue lolling out as he vigorously rubs her belly.

“No fair,” Lizzie complains, “you’re better at the math stuff than I am.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.

Deciding she might as well give up on her blog, Jenny closes her laptop and decides to head this off before it gets anywhere close to argument territory. “Liam why don’t you help Lizzie with her math and when she’s done we can watch something together.” Although Jenny’s not sure she knows how to work a TV that seems to have twenty different remotes. “Maybe play a game.”

“Okay,” Erna seems to pout when Liam leaves her, but she soon returns to Jenny’s side, making her shake her head in bemusement.

“You are quite the little opportunist,” she tells the dog as her fingers sink into the thickest fur she’s ever encountered.

“Daddy says lapphunds are super smart,” Lizzie says absently as she and Liam lean over her textbook.

Jenny doesn’t doubt it. “I’ll bet they are.” Erna definitely seems like the sort of dog who knows what she’s doing. Definitely as clever as the dog Jenny remembers from her childhood that the Mason’s had to watch over their small herd of sheep. Although Sheep definitely hadn’t been as friendly as Erna.

There’s about another minute of silence before Lizzie falls over backwards. “I’m done!” She says with a groan and Jennifer wonders if it’s worrying that she identifies so much with that.

Liam nudges her, “Hnefatafl?” Which sounds like gibberish to Jenny, but has Lizzie up like a shot and she bounds away.

“Henifatafle?” Learning how to spell weird words Jenny could do, pronouncing them on the other hand, well her penchant for babbling wasn’t the only reason she hadn’t tried to go into broadcast reporting.

“It’s like chess,” he answers as he puts away his own textbooks.

“But so much cooler,” Lizzie adds breathlessly as she returned, a long tube that rattled slightly as she walked in her arms. “We can teach you how to play, although daddy says it’s kind of a secret game because only people like us remember how to play it.”

Jenny arches an eyebrow as she watches Lizzie pull out a roll of what looks like leather, she unrolls it revealing a board that looks kinda like a chess board, minus the colored squares. Liam upends the tube itself and three different kinds of pieces come clattering out flying everywhere.

“Erna no!” Lizzie calls out when the dog goes scrabbling after one of the pieces. She stops chasing the piece, but her nose does go under the couch where it’d gone.

After all the pieces have been collected and a brief bit of debating on who would be the defender and the attacker the board gets set. And from the outset Jennifer thinks it looks nothing like chess, but then again from the sound of it it’s a war game like chess.

“So I’m a jarl and her men under siege by another jarl and I’ve got to get away before my attackers get through my men and capture me.” Lizzie explains tapping a lone glass piece, thin chips stained red, and then blue stained chips. “Liam can do anything he wants when trying to attack me…”

-

James is pretty sure the last time he was this nervous was when he’d been about to propose to Arla, an amusing fact in a weird sort of way considering this is their ‘first date’. It had been a wonderful sort of relief when she’d agreed to that; they’ve both changed since they last saw each other, picking up where they’d left off seems the height of recklessness.

Rolling his shoulders to try and make his coat fall better, he goes up to her door and knocks. Another wave of nerves passes through him as he hears movement on the other side. Then the door’s opening and she’s there, really there in a nice pair of jeans and button up shirt, her hair pinned up. “You’re a little early,” she teases.

A blush stains his cheeks. “I brought flowers.” He offers them up, three purple-pink balls of hydrangea, her favorite.

“Where did you get these?” The note of wonder in her voice fills him with a burst of pride, which at least helps combat the nerves.

He shrugs as she takes them. “The florist, he’s got a way with plants,” it almost seems to James that Henri and his husband do more business in the winter thanks to Henri’s plant powers than in the summer.

Lingering in the doorway he watches as she puts them in water, then grabs her coat and purse. “Alright,” she smiles. “I hope you’ve got a good place picked out. I’m starving.”

“I’m sure the owner would like to think it’s good,” he jokes. “But it’s okay,” his smile brightens when it gets him a laugh.

The ride over to the Gull they’re silent, only the radio filling the space, it doesn’t really bother James. It’s a familiar sort of quiet, one they’ve inhabited before. In a way it’s sort of soothing, to fall back into this and let old habits help guide their way.

Arla peers at the facade of the Gull dubiously, but James tries not to feel offended, it might not look much, but it’s got it where it counts he knows; and as he walks Arla to the front he lets his eyes scan the parking lot for any sign of his parents, or Duke’s, car—he lucks out on the former, but not the latter. He resigns himself to that fact, at least Duke will, hopefully, be nice enough to leave them alone—not that Audrey and Nathan wouldn’t.

Arla’s eyes track around the Gull as they shed their coats. “Well it’s certainly got character.” He finds himself huffing in amusement at the understatement.

“Just sit wherever you’d like James, I’ll bring menus and waters,” Carla smiles at them from the bar.

“Come here often?” Arla asks with an arched eyebrow as she takes his arm while he guides them to a tucked away nook.

He can feel a blush stain his cheeks. “I know the guy who owns it,” he explains. “And it was kind of a second base for Lucy and I.” It had been a tradition of sorts, help someone and go out for a drink when it was all over— _“Helps you remember that it’s_ over _”_. Lucy had also found out quite a few problems here, maybe as many as she had through the station and ‘proper channels’. Arla doesn’t exactly flinch at the mention of Lucy, but it’s a near thing and he finds himself biting his tongue.

James doesn’t quite like that she seems set against his mom from the get go, he’d like for her and Audrey to at least be civil to each other, but part of him can understand why; Lucy is the reason he left her after all, granted he hadn’t planned on being gone for as long as he had been.

Luckily Carla brakes the moment, rattling off the specials and their seasonal drinks, then leaves with their drink orders.

“You want to say something,” it’s not quite a question, or a statement the way James asks it. But he knows it to be true by looking at her, the way her thumb rubs circles in the condensation of her glass.

A sigh escapes her. “I’m surprised you remembered that,” he doesn’t exactly understand why she thinks that, of _course_ he’d remember her little ticks. “I guess, I just, why didn’t you tell me James? Why didn’t you give me the choice to come here with you that first time? I would have if you’d given me the option.”

He gives his own sigh. “I honestly don’t know Arla, and I should have told you. The whole thing, from the idea of having my birth parents at the wedding to when the PI sent me the adoption records that had been seriously buried.” On an impulse he reaches out and rests his hand on top of her own, the link between body and skin hasn’t decayed much since yesterday so all it is is a touch. “It was like there was some force driving me, telling me I had to do it on my own, that the more people who know the worse things might go. It’s not a very good reason, or even a good excuse, but it’s all I have to give.”

Her brown eyes stare at him seriously as she silently works through her own thoughts.

A familiar tanned hand reaches across the table to set drinks down and James resigns himself to being at least a tad embarrassed by whatever Duke’s planning. Maybe they should have gone out of town for dinner.

“You know if you’d given me some warning ahead of time I would have spiffed the place up, it does respectable quite well went the effort’s put into it.” A fact which James is certain is the story of Duke’s life.

“Well I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” James responds tartly. “Arla, this is-”

“We’ve met,” Arla interrupts, leaving James a little blindsided. “Jenny’s dad right?” She smiles as she holds out her other hand. “It’s good to see you again, and you must be the owner James mentioned earlier.”

Duke sketches a little bow. “Guilty on all charges. But I hadn’t quite expected you to be the Arla James always mentions. So it’s nice to finally have a face to all his stories.” Arla’s cheeks turn pink and maybe this won’t be so bad. “Have you both decided on what you’d like? The beef stew’s especially good, nice and warming.”

“I’ll have that,” James says in a bit of a rush, part of him wanting to get Duke gone as quickly as possible, even if the man has good intentions.

“I was thinking I’d try the clam chowder, when in Rome right?” Arla’s smile is shyer than he expects.

“Excellent choice,” Duke beams at her. “I’ll have them right out soon.” And with that he’s gone and James can breath a sigh of relief; he hadn’t realized a date could be so harrowing. He certainly doesn’t remember their actual first date being this stressful.

“How did you meet Duke?” He finds himself asking.

Arla shrugs. “We were introduced yesterday by his daughter. She and I’d run into each other the day before and we were meeting for coffee at Black House, he came in with his boyfriend and another one of her relations I guess,” Arla frowns slightly. “She never really specified more beyond they were her family. But we didn’t get to talk much since they were heading out. I think you’d like Jenny, although I guess you’ve already met since you know her dad, it must be why she said she knew who you were. I wonder if that’s what she was going to tell me before she up and disappeared.” Arla takes a drink. “I didn’t really think much about it yesterday since you came in almost right after she left.”

James can’t help but stare at her for a few seconds, bemused as all get out by the whole thing.

“What?” She frowns, reminding that while he might still remember all of her tics, she probably remembers his expressions just as well.

“Ah, well. It seems we might be able to skip the meet the family bit.” He’s not doing any justice to his beer by drinking it so quickly.

Arla’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

He sets his glass down, “well. Nathan’s my dad, and Audrey...she’s my mom. Jenny, Jennifer, is the half-sister I told you about.”

“Seriously?” She didn’t quite sound incredulous, but she’d definitely been caught off guard.

“Yeah,” he told her with a wan smile. “Seriously.”

-

Dwight isn’t drunk, but he does have a nice sort of buzz in his system, the world feeling just that little bit more softer around the edges. At least he knows it will be out of his system come morning.

Erna bounds up to him when he enters the house. It’s mostly quiet—which he expects considering how late it is—but he can hear the TV going.

Shedding his shoes and coat he pads into the front room, the overhead light never got turned on, so the only illumination is from the screen, which paints Jennifer—laying across the whole couch, impressive considering how tiny she is, clearly asleep—in shades of white and brown. Biting back a smile he goes over and gives her shoulder a light shake. “Hey.”

Jennifer nearly crashes into him she bolts upright so fast. Her eyes dart around for a few confused seconds before settling on him. “Shit, sorry, I totally didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

It gets harder to hold back the smile. “It’s alright, Lizzie can be exhausting sometimes. You need help getting home?” Haven’s not exactly dangerous, but he feels the need to offer anyways; because it’s the polite thing to do.

“No, thanks though,” he watches her run a hand through her hair, making her bedhead look even messier, it’s...well it’s not ‘pretty’ by any stretch of the word, but there’s something _nice_ about it. Just another thing about her he apparently likes.

He gets out of her way as she moves to stand and finds himself trailing after her, not quite sure what else to do.

“I hope this doesn’t become a thing,” it comes out of the blue and Dwight finds himself blinking.

“What?” He asks.

Jennifer’s smile has a luring cast to it as she tugs on her gloves. “Last minute babysitting requests. I mean I don’t mind. But sometimes a girl likes a little bit of warning. To be fair today was better than yesterday.”

He can feel a blush creeping across his cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, my friends sort of sprang tonight on me without much warning myself.” And had managed to tease most of the past few days out of him, the bastards. McHugh all but chewed him out for not going for it while Tor had shaken his head and reminded Dwight that he was allowed to have a life.

Her smile shifts in a way he can’t understand, just like he can’t understand why his center of gravity suddenly shifts and warm lips press against his own.

But apparently while his brain’s rusty on dating his body remembers how to kiss just fine, because his eyes slide shut and his arms wrap around her as he deepens the kiss.

It feels like it ends just as quickly as it begins. On the other hand the two of them pull away slowly from each other, as if they don’t _want_ it to end.

“Um, I hope that’s okay, I mean I really like you but if you don’t feel the same way then obviously I shouldn’t have kissed you I just-” He puts his finger on her lips to cut her off, letting loose the smile he’d worked to hold back earlier.

“It’s alright Jennifer, I don’t mind at all,” at least he can admit that. Feeling a certain sort of relief that he hasn’t just been pining after her. Everything else might take a little while.

Her unexpected smile makes him want to kiss her again, but he holds himself back. “Oh, that’s, that’s great. That’s really great.” Her smile gets even more intense. “So, ah, a date, a real one this time?”

Smiling he leans down to give her a brief kiss. “I think I can manage that.”

-

Audrey isn’t usually the sort to worry about things like dinner parties and making sure they go off without a hitch; she gets enough headaches from work that she doesn’t need to take on _more_ stress. So she’ll leave planning things of that sort of Duke and Nathan, who at the very least don’t get headaches, even if this is only a slightly nicer version of their usual family dinners.

But she does find herself...fretting a little about this one.

Probably because James is bringing Arla over—Audrey hopes that maybe it was a good thing the’d sort of made fools of themselves, or at least Duke and Nathan had, when they’d first met—and Jennifer is bringing Dwight and Lizzie. It’s like their strange little family exploded overnight;  yet she finds herself glad that her children seem happier than they were before.

“Go, sit.” Duke gives her a little empathic push. “The potatoes aren’t going to cook any faster just because you’re glaring at them.”

“Pretty sure they are,” she jabs back with a fond smile, but she does as he asks and lets him have Nathan’s kitchen—she wonders if Nathan minds that his house has become their de facto meeting place when it’s more than just the three of them—to himself. Joining Nathan on the couch in the front room and stealing his beer.

“Hey,” but it’s a mock protest at best.

She flutters her eyelashes at him and takes a drink before handing it back. “I didn’t think I could get this nervous over something so mundane.” She’s actually surprised that Haven isn’t reacting around her, over the past month she’s finally had time to explore what being the Lar of Haven means, and how it pertains to her and what she can do.

“I know,” Nathan puts his hand on top of hers. “Arla seemed nice when we met her though.” True, and, at the time, it had surprised Audrey that she’d been able to get a sense of Arla, just like she would any other resident of Haven—tourists and the seasonal folk not so much—brittle, and stretched almost to breaking. But she’s pretty sure Arla doesn’t want her pity.

“Come help me put stuff on the table!” Duke shouts from the kitchen.

Audrey looks at Nathan and rolls her eyes. “You told me to get out of the kitchen and now you’re changing your mind?”

There’s a brief second of silence then, “shut up and help,” Duke gripes back.

She and Nathan share a smile, but they both get up and go to the kitchen. They don’t talk much as they work, they don’t need too, they know each other too well. And when the doorbell rings she nudges Nathan to go answer—it _is_ his house after all—she and Duke getting the last of dinner set up.

It’s easy to fall into conversation with Dwight at least, even if there’s a new facet to his relationships with all of them. Jennifer’s as bubbly as ever, but Audrey doesn’t miss the warmth in her eyes when she looks at Dwight.

Nathan’s opening up the mead Dwight brought when the doorbell rings again, and Audrey finds that she gets the short straw.

“Come on in,” she tells James and Arla when she opens the door, wanting to let out as little heat as she possibly can. It might be the middle of January, but according to _everyone_ in town they’ve got colder days to come.

She and James hug once he’s shed his coat and she can almost feel Arla’s eyes on them; It makes Audrey all but pray that she’s not one of those women who becomes suspicious of everything, James, she feels, doesn’t need that in his life.

Then again, right now Arla is a stranger in a world very much suited to James; there’s bound to be a curve, learning or otherwise.

So when she and James part she does her best to give Arla her warmest smile. “It’s good to see you again, if under unexpected circumstances.” Not exactly the smoothest way of saying it, but it’s true. She sticks her hand out for Arla to shake.

Arla stares at her, her eyes clearly trying to figure _something_ out, but what it might be Audrey hasn’t the foggiest. Still, she eventually does take Audrey’s hand, giving a pleasantly firm handshake. “You’re not exactly what I expected,” Arla finally says.

And well, Audrey’s certainly dealt with worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnefatafl is a real game, although the rules/goals of it have been lost to time.
> 
> And don't forget to subscribe to the series! There are more fics coming! Including the 'main' sequel _The Road Forgotten_ on Nov 28. Of which have a teaser!
> 
> Next to her Nathan’s reading the menu with a single minded focus that’s kind of adorable, it brings a fond smile to her face. Letting herself sneak in the occasional glance as she finds herself torn between the pulled pork and ‘hearty’ BLT.
> 
> But then Nathan starts sputtering and when she looks he’s cherry red. “What?” Has he finally noticed the halo burger? Maybe she and Duke should have bet on it.
> 
> He turns the menu to her—of course he’s looking at the breakfast foods even though it’s lunch—and points.


End file.
